The Soldier and The Thief
by Sephraem
Summary: Not a true sequel to The Only Thing That Matters. For three years, the High King of Skyrim has been happily married to his childhood friend and Warrior Queen, Freyja Strong-Heart. Unfortunately, the bliss gets ruined when he once again (unknowingly) screws up and she leaves Windhelm once more. Where does her feet take her this time and will she take the repentant ruler back again?
1. Chapter 1

"Freyja? What are you doing here? Last I heard, you and Ulfric were headin' up to your room for some alone time."

Silver eyes narrow as the woman stares at her long time friend. "Today's the anniversary of my father's passing Galmar. I spent the two hours or so as I always do this day- praying down at the temple. There is no way I would _not _do that, you know this as does my husband." Blonde brows furrow in thought for a few moments, then Strong-Heart continues with "I would have gone earlier, but there was a wedding going on during the afternoon- I think Oengul's apprentice was marrying Calder, the one Ulfric appointed as Gisele's Housecarl when she became Thane of Eastmarch... You don't think he...?"

"Ulfric would never reinstate First Night, especially since he has you as his wife. We might be traditionalists, but I'd like to think the three of us are of the same mind when it comes to _that_."

"One can only hope, but I'd like to go check just to make sure. Care to take the walk with me?"

A gray flecked eyebrow arches slightly at the stupid question the Warrior Queen asked. "Well, as your and Ulfric's Housecarl, I'm sworn to protect you both with my life. Even if you weren't his wife, you and I have been friends since we were children- I'd follow you straight into Oblivion, Freyja, if you asked it of me."

The slighter Nord slips her arm through Galmar's as the two make their way to the stairs that led to the back part of the palace. "What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you... Sometimes I don't think I deserve half the things I have in my life."

"I think we all needed something from each other at some point in our lives," the General goes as he holds the door to the stairs open for her. "You were Ulfric's rock and I was his conscience. You showed me that I wasn't a failure when I allowed him to walk into that ambush at Darkwater Crossing and he constantly keeps me on my toes when he sneaks off with you without warning. Ulfric showed you that you were and still are worthy to be loved and I back you up when he wants to do something stupid. That's why I think the gods gave us each other."

"When did you become so wise and philosophical, my friend? Must be old age and boredom catching up to you, no doubt. Perhaps we should find a way to get you back on the battlefield, hmm? Maybe that's what the three of us need- we've gotten complacent with the peace."

A noise could faintly be heard echoing through the stone corridor, and the closer the two Nords got to what was the bedroom the High King shared with his wife the louder and more distinct it became.

"Open the door, Galmar. I want you to do it because if I go in first I know I'll kill both whoever took my form to fuck my husband... and probably Ulfric simply because if he doesn't know my body after thirty-five plus years of knowing each other..."

_Ulfric, I swear to Talos I hope you have a damned good explanation for this_, the Housecarl thinks as he throws the door open with a bang.

* * *

_Everything is going right for once_, Hermir thought as her King moans underneath her- not that Ulfric knew it wasn't his wife thanks to the enchanted amulet she wore to take on said woman's appearance. _He'll never be the wiser, and I get my dreams fulfilled._

All she had ever wanted since she was a little girl was to please Ulfric Stormcloak, whether it was being a model citizen of the Hold, excelling in her studies as a blacksmith in the hopes of making the armor for his future soldiers, or, since he hadn't taken on a wife prior to three years ago, a lover of sorts. The first two were easy enough, but when he had returned from Talos knows where with _her_ wearing an Amulet of Mara, Hermir knew she would have no chance in swaying Ulfric from Freyja Strong-Heart (_no relation_)'s side. Even worse was, despite the new High King being a traditionalist in the strictest sense of the word, he emphatically refused to bring back the High King's right to claim First Night with any newly married female- claiming one woman was enough for him.

And so the blacksmith apprentice quietly studied the art of enchantment, of using the pieces of jewelry she crafted to hold the magic of changing her appearance, even for short periods of time. It took a lot of time, sleepless nights, and many ruined attempts before the young Nord could get the enchantment to hold, and many more attempts after that to get the change to hold longer than five minutes. The best Hermir could do- the piece around her neck- was four hours, and she was about three hours in. She was going to have to end this much sooner than she'd like, but, the woman thought, it would be on her terms... or so she thought.

Suddenly the door flies open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. She lets out a soft squeak, rolling off of a clearly displeased Ulfric and pulling the sheet up around her bare form.

"Galmar, what's the meaning of this?"

"I think you better ask the woman in your bed that, my Lord." Icy orbs narrow at Hermir and she swallows- _How did he know?_

"Have you hit the bottle a little too hard tonight? You know who this is- she's my wife!"

"If she's your wife, Ulfric, then who is standing right behind me?" The angry Housecarl steps to the side, revealing the expressionless face of Freyja.

"I know they say impersonation is the sincerest form of flattery, but to take on another woman's face to get their husband to fuck you is a new one for me." Silver eyes move from the now panicking woman in the bed to the man who's emotions flickered from confusion, to anger, to regret. "And you. What day is it today, Ulfric?"

Blonde brows furrow in thought, then he sighs in resignation as the man figures out what she was aiming for. "It's the fifteen day of Rain's Hand...and the tenth anniversary of your father's passing."

"Very good," the woman says, mock applauding him. "And what do I do _every_ fifteenth day of Rain's Hand?"

Another sigh. "Go down to the Temple of Talos and pray that he, and all those who came before us, to continue watching over us and guiding our actions." He looks up at her, adding "But you normally go earlier in the day, not this close to dinner."

"Funny you should mention that, my rather obtuse husband. It seems that after you and I chose to marry here in the temple here in Windhelm, others also wanted the honor as well. Today Calder, the Housecarl of the Thane of Eastmarch, was getting married to War-Anvil's apprentice- Stormblade had written to us of the occasion, but she was unable to make it because Jarl Thongvor of Markarth had need of her assistance with some problems down in the Reach. Regardless, I was unable to utilize the temple until a little over two hours ago, after the festivities were finished and cleaned up."

"I was quite confused when I saw Freyja here walking in from the Valunstrad, when I thought she was with you, Ulfric," Galmar goes, then rubs at the back of his head in a slightly sheepish way. "I too forgot what day it was. Some friends we are, my Lord."

"So, do we need to further prove that the woman you have been fucking is not your wife, Ulfric Stormcloak? Perhaps things that only your wife would know, like how you asked Gisele to find me, or how you told Galmar in the temple there was supposedly no one more worthy than Freyja Strong-Heart to be your wife..." Freyja bites back the sob that threatens to come out and shakes her head. "We've known each other over thirty-five years, Ulfric. You're more intimately acquainted with my body than any person save my mother, and I yours... Could you seriously not tell the difference? The scars- the ones you told me that showed my strength of character, my love for my fellow shield-brothers and sisters, the scars I received from making sure you made it home alive, the same scars I had started to hate- she has _none of them! _Did you not notice that rather large fact?"

The ashamed look that crosses her husband's face says everything and the woman shakes her head. Her gaze turns towards the slight copy of her own body in the bed and goes "You picked the wrong day to mess with me. Get out of that bed, get dressed, and General Stone-Fist will take you to a cell in the Bloodworks- after you give me whatever it is you have on that allowed you to wear my face."

The fake Freyja slowly slips out from under the blanket, picking her blue dress off the floor. A look of fear mixed with just a hint of loathing flickers across their face as the material lowers over her head, covering her naked body. She takes her boots, not bothering to put them on, then moves to stand in front of the High King's wife. Without warning, Hermir spits on Freyja's face, snarling "You don't deserve him! You're not good enough for him!"

Instead of violently reacting like both Ulfric and Galmar thought she would, Freyja just wipes the drool from her face with her tunic sleeve and responds "You're partially right. I don't deserve him. I deserve **better**\- at least better than a man who can't tell the difference between his wife and someone who covets a married man who openly stated more than once he wasn't reinstating the tradition of First Night. You ended up making a liar out of perhaps the most honorable man I knew, all because you just _had_ to have him." Stormy orbs glance at Stone-Fist, the woman not willing to turn from the spiteful shrew before her. "My General, please bring her down and make sure the newest resident of the Bloodworks is comfortable in her cell. I'm sure you will have many... questions to ask them and it will take a long time until you are fully satisfied."

"That's true Lass... but should I leave you alone with...?"

"Galmar, I swear on all three of our fathers that I will not physically harm the High King while you are gone unless it's self-defense... Unlike some Nords, I keep the oaths I make." The older man just nods at Freyja's promise, then takes a rough hold onto the other woman's arm and bodily drags her from the room, leaving the married couple alone.

Repentant emeralds stare into emotionless hematite. "Freyja..."

"Don't, Ulfric. Just...don't." The flaxen haired female turns her back on him and moves towards the wardrobe where her clothes were kept, and, after picking up a backpack, starts putting her more functional items in it. Behind her, Strong-Heart can hear him climbing out of the bed, then frantically tugging a pair of pants on. "Don't bother."

"You can't leave, Freyja," Ulfric tries to plea with her, his normally strong yet level voice cracking. "I need you here."

She doesn't turn her head to address him, her hands moving automatically as they add a few more things. "Then it seems anyone wearing my face is enough for you. Perhaps you can find someone from the order of Chirurgeons out in the Summerset Isles to manipulate someone to look like me permanently- that way you're not wasting money on enchanted items to keep the appearance. Of course, you would have to worry about the person they send being a Thalmor plant to kill you. Choices, choices."

"Will you come back?" When his wife doesn't respond, he moves behind her and slowly turns her around to look at him. "Please, Freyja, promise me you'll come back. I can't go through you running from me again. You're my _wife_. We can talk this out-"

"Right now we can't, Ulfric. I just caught you, knowingly or not, fucking another person wearing my face in _our_ marital bed. If the roles were reversed, most likely you'd have killed first the person first and asked questions later. I'm showing that woman more leniency right now than she deserves- truth be told, I want my hands to bathe in her blood as I take her life."

"Promise me."

"I don't make promises I can't keep." The blonde woman growls out, then looks up at him with narrowed eyes. "Don't follow me this time, because that's what I'm asking for- time. I have to know if it's Mara's will to stay with you after this revelation."

"I don't make promises I can't keep either." Before Freyja could retort, the man amends "I don't make promises I _knowingly_ can't keep."

"For some reason, I don't believe that." She gently frees herself from Ulfric's grip and moves towards the door. Before the woman leaves, she goes quietly "Perhaps being your Warrior Queen has made me soft- never before would I have let someone who wronged myself or my loved ones live as I have done tonight. Perhaps I'm not cut out for court life... Perhaps I need to find something to fight for again... Goodbye, Ulfric. I do hope you can keep yourself out of trouble- hopefully you'll start listening to Galmar more often, yes?" With that, Freyja is out the door, down the stairs and heading towards the stairs to the main hall before the ruler could get a word in. And as much as the lone Nord wanted to go and drag his wife back kicking and screaming, he wasn't that worried.

_I've got eyes and ears in every Hold, people that she doesn't know about. It shouldn't take me as long to figure out where she runs off to this time._ Opening a drawer, Ulfric tugs a blue shirt free and pulls it on, then slips his feet into a pair of boots. _First though we find out exactly who was in my bed tonight. Then we find out if anyone else was involved. Then, after handing out their punishment, see if anyone has seen my wife and bring her home. I refuse to lose her due to my stupidity- again._

Little did the High King of Skyrim know that forces were moving against him to make sure he truly learned his lesson this time around.

* * *

A/N: This just came to me while I was pretty much having writers block on most of my stories. As I said, this is not a true sequel to The Only Thing That Matters, at least at this point in time it's not- it's more of just a what if kinda thing. I'd like to think Ulfric would be more than aware of his wife's body, especially if they have known each other for more than thirty years. But he is a man, and man is fallible, especially when magic of some sort is involved.

Regarding the concept of First Night: Yes, the concept of _jus primae noctis_ ("right of the first night") is barbaric. It was a supposed legal right in medieval Europe that allowed feudal lords to have sex with the women of their lands, especially on their wedding night. I could see the Kings of Skyrim's ancient times utilizing this concept, though, while Ulfric can be seen as a traditionalist of sorts, I'd like to think that he loves Freyja enough that he doesn't need to sleep with half of Skyrim.

Hermir... I don't know why I chose her out of all the possible women of Eastmarch or the province as a whole. Perhaps its the fact in the game she seems to hero worship Ulfric and thinks the world of him. But I'd also like to believe that every person out there- man, mer, orc, cat or lizard- has dark desires they wish they could act on, and Hermir did, taking the time to learn some enchanting and finding a way to look like her High King's most prized possession. Having her marry Calder was just a slight bonus, as Calder is the Housecarl you receive when you become Thane of Eastmarch. Considering the Thane of Eastmarch is Stormblade, and Stormblade is the Guild Master for the Thieves... everything just wrapped up nicely that way. I do feel sorry for Calder though...


	2. Chapter 2

"A long way from home aren't you, my Lady?"

A blonde head shakes at the dark haired, heavy armored Nord leaning against a wooden support beam. "Perhaps, but like the last time, it's for the right reasons- at least to me they are, others might think otherwise. I need to find Delvin, and if he's not available, Brynjolf. And if for some reason the both of them are busy, their Guild Master."

Maul arches a black brow at the list of names. He had heard that Freyja was on relatively decent terms with the Jarl of the Rift's Thane and two of the Thieves Guild higher ups, but to actually see it was something else. "I don't know where Mallory or Gisele are, but the ginger Nord should be at his stall in the marketplace. You could try there, but if he's not chances are he's probably in the Flagon. I can take you there if that's the case."

"I would hate to take you away from any tasks Maven Black-Briar needs you to do, Maul, but I'll keep it in mind. Besides, I haven't had the chance to truly explore Riften and all she has to offer," the tired warrior goes to him with a slight smile.

"It would be the least I can do for the High King's lady." He frowns as a pained expression flickers across the other Nord's face, and the thief-turned-bodyguard wonders what brought that on.

"Then I'd ask you not to address me by any sort of title or my real name. If you have to call me anything, call me Skadi." The woman tugs at her leather gauntlet, though whether from nerves or fear she wasn't quite sure. _Quite possibly it's both._"Freyja Strong-Heart, Commander of the Stormcloak Army, Wife of the High King of Skyrim, does not exist- not now, not here."

Dark eyes stare at the woman, Maul wondering how Ulfric _bloody_ Stormcloak didn't learn from his first screw up that led her running up to Solstheim, which was how she first met both Mallory brothers and the Guild's Second in Command. _At least she was smart enough not to go back to Raven Rock, though will the royal idiot figure that out?_ He would wait though to find out what happened- nothing stayed quiet in Riften for long. "As you wish, my L... Skadi. If you need anything while you're here, let me know." Another small smile on Freyja's face is the only outward sign that she heard him, then the soldier starts walking towards the market in Riften Grand Plaza to find the auburn man in question.

A guard walks over to armored man and attempts to innocently ask "Who was that? Don't think I've seen her around here before."

"You haven't," the Nord goes shortly. "And if you know what's best for you, you'll forget that you even saw her. She's under the protection of the Thane and her Guild- spread the word to the other guards."

"And Sibbi?"

A predatory smile crosses Maul's face. "I wouldn't worry about what he'll do to her. I would worry about what _she'll do to him_ if little Sibbi Black-Briar even looks at Skadi wrong."

"Her?" Here the guard snorts from amusement and disbelief. "Doesn't look like much, but it wouldn't take much to take him down."

"Go ahead and think that. Even better, the next time you see her, why don't you give that beautiful ass a nice squeeze- I'll be laughing while you're trying to keep your insides from falling out. Now go tell the rest of the guard that woman is off-limits."

* * *

It was near the end of the day in the marketplace of Riften, and a well dressed Nord in blue clothes had just sold his last bottle that Ingun had given him to sell to the naive fools that had passed through Riften on their way up to Solitude. _Barmy wannabe bards. I'm sure the Guild Master'll be pleased with the haul regardless._

"Shame, it seems you just sold out... And I was hoping to possibly purchase one. Does it have any other miracle results than the ones you're claiming? I don't need a potion to be able to make love like a saber cat, and I think I handed you a beating once or twice before... Perhaps it can change my plain old blonde hair into that gorgeous red of yours?"

The male's ears twitch at the familiar voice, and Brynjolf cannot help the smile that breaks out on his face when he sees Freyja standing before him. "For you Lass, I'm sure the miracle results are as numerous as there are stars in the sky. Not that you need a miracle to improve how you look- you're still as gorgeous as the day I saw you workin' Glover's forge. Maybe a little bit rougher around the edges, but aren't we all once in awhile?"

"And the miracles most likely equal the number women you've flirted with over the past few years," the soldier teases him as she leans against the stall's counter. "It's good to see you Bryn. How have you and the others been?"

"Can't really complain, Lass. Gold has been flowing and no one's gotten in trouble, so tha's got to stand for somethin'." Emerald orbs peer around in confusion, then, as the man notices what Freyja was wearing, goes "The last time I saw you in gear that wasn't your officer armor was when you were runnin' round Solstheim, thinkin' the Stormcloak was wanting to marry my Guild Master... Don't tell me you came down from Windhelm on your own, Lass." When her response is a tug on her braid, the Nord thief had his answer. "Skadi, you know it's too dangerous for you. What happened?"

Freyja sighs, the hand once pulling on long straw strands moves to rub at her forehead in exhaustion. "It's a long story, my friend, and I'd rather only tell it once. Do you know where Del and Gisele are? I think they should hear what I have to say- Talos knows I could use some better advice than what Galmar threw at me." The Nord's mind finally catches up to her and what the thief called her. "You remembered..."

"You'll always be Skadi to me, Lass, no matter what anyone else says," he goes quietly, putting a hand over hers and giving it a squeeze. With his other hand, Brynjolf gestures across the market to a Bosmer, who seemed to be haggling with one of the other merchants about some arrows. When the elf makes their way over, the auburn Nord goes "Skadi, this is Niruin, the archery trainer I mentioned awhile ago. Niruin, this is Skadi- she's a friend of mine, the Mallorys and the Guild Master. Would you be willing to head down to the Flagon and see if Delvin and Gisele are there and have them meet me over at my place please?"

The soldier and the newcomer exchange pleasantries, then the thief asks his superior "Anything specific you want me to say? Or just have them go to Riftweald?"

"Tell them that an old friend from up north's come to visit and wants to catch up a bit. She's not sure how long she's staying, so the sooner they can make their way over, the more time we have." When Niruin heads off to find the people in question, Brynjolf moves around to the front of his stall, only letting go of Freyja's hand to get around one of the beams of the stall. "Have you eaten since you left Eastmarch?"

"I daren't stop along the way, Bryn, you know that. I took the long way here in the case either Galmar or Ulfric figured where I was planning on going. I'll eat later." At his look of disapproval, the blonde goes "I promise. Really. I'll eat."

"I'll hold you to that, Lass, even if it means I have to feed you myself," he says emphatically, leading her away from the market on Riften's Plankside and towards Dryside.

"Well, that all depends on what you plan on feeding me. I remember a time when you were rather insistent on trying to get me to eat sausage," the blonde points out to him as the pair walk down a dark alleyway. "Will that also show up on the menu at some point? Perhaps as a special?"

Before Freyja realizes it, her back is pressed up against the back wall of one of the manors, Brynjolf's darkening emerald orbs staring into her mercurial ones. "Do _not_ tempt me, Lass. How I felt towards you hasn't changed the three years since Solstheim, and you have _no idea_ how hard it is for me not to take you right here up against this home. Keep it up and your marriage to Ulfric _**bloody**_ Stormcloak be damned, I will have my way with you. Maybe then I can break this hold you have on me...or damn myself more than I already have..."

A rough thumb drags across dry, parted lips, Freyja's breath hot on his cool skin. "Or maybe you should- you're still more than worth the chase and waiting for, Lass. If only you never married the blasted Bear of Markarth and gave me a chance..."

"Who knows," she goes, her eyes looking up at the him through long lashes. Freyja might have only been two inches shorter than the auburn haired Nord, but by Talos if Brynjolf still didn't overwhelm her with his confident presence. The soldier feels her cheeks flush slightly under his gaze and continues "Maybe you'll convince me one of these days to do so- give you a chance, I mean."

"As much as I'd like to believe that, Skadi, forgive me for being a bit skeptical. The last time I received any word from you, everything was just wonderful up in Windhelm, that you were still in as much love as a newly married couple. What changed?"

Pale fingers take a hold of his hand and gives it a soft squeeze. "Soon, Bryn. I promise. You'll understand soon enough when Del and Gisele show up... if they show up."

"They'll come, Lass- I wouldn't be surprised if they dropped what they were doing just to make sure you're in one piece. Now, let's get you inside and put some food in your stomach. Maybe you'll be able to get a nap in too." Before Freyja could challenge him, Brynjolf gently pulls her from the wall and the strange pair continue walking towards Riftweald and, quite possibly, a new beginning.

* * *

A/N: Well. I was...a bit at odds, posting this, especially since The Only Thing That Matters has- like everything else as of late- been rather neglected. I decided to upload it simply because what it revolves around is Freyja meeting Bryn, Del and Glover (not in that order) during a trip up to Solstheim and, eventually, Ulfric finding Freyja and the two tying the knot. Pretty much it. I figured though that if I kept at The Soldier and The Thief, I might end up with some insight for what happens to Freyja during the events of the other story... if that makes sense.

I'd like to think that if Brynjolf found someone he truly wanted, he'd end his skirt chasing (or armor chasing, if the rumors regarding him and Tonilia are true) ways and bide his time until he could sweep them off their feet. Do I believe our lovely ginger Nord would wait three odd years to do so? Well, Karliah waited 25 years to finally get justice so... yes, I do think he could. And would.

So, next up we will have Gisele and Del trying to hypothesize why the officer is visiting The Rift without letting them know, and plans are made. As for what Ulfric is up to? Well, he is not sitting idly by either, dealing with Hermir in prison as well as reaching out to some people in the other Holds (not just the Jarls) to see if there was any sighting of his missing wife. But how will Freyja elude the Bear of Markarth? Keep reading to find out!


End file.
